


Emotionless Freak

by xXxAnimeBellxXx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Gen, Neglect, Pretty much child slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxAnimeBellxXx/pseuds/xXxAnimeBellxXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Working Title)</p><p>Freak woke one morning feeling… odd. He didn't know why, but he got the impression that today would somehow be a life-changing experience for him.</p><p>HARRY POTTER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.</p><p>MENTIONS OF ABUSE, NEGLECT AND CHILD SLAVERY.</p><p>Please leave a comment telling me whether or not I should bother continuing with this? I've never really written anything like this before, so feedback would be a appreciated. (It would be appreciated anyway, but you get the idea...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the last week, there had been about fifty letters (written on parchment, of all things) finding their way into his Masters' home, all addressed to someone called Mr. H. Potter. Freak secretly wondered who this 'Mr. H. Potter' character was and if he missed his mail at all.

Freak woke one morning feeling… odd. He didn't know why, but he got the impression that today would somehow be a life-changing experience for him. Usually, when Freak had a life-changing experience, it meant either being beaten even worse than normal or getting a bit of cheese to go with his weekly slice of bread. Freak hoped for the latter.

Ignoring the feeling, the dark haired boy went to make breakfast for his Masters. It would take a miracle to change the eleven year old Freak's life by any substantial amount, and his Masters had made it very clear to Freak that miracles did not happen to the likes of him. Good things only happened to Normal People. Thus, good things could not happen to a Freak.

But apparently, strange and horrifying things also happened to Normal People like his Masters. For the last week, there had been about fifty letters (written on parchment, of all things) finding their way into his Masters' home, all addressed to someone called Mr. H. Potter. His Masters had looked positively ill just by looking at the envelope, then they had both turned interesting shades of grey and green while reading the contents of the first letter.

His Masters now simply looked annoyed and had Freak burn the offending parchments in the fireplace whenever they showed up. Freak secretly wondered who this 'Mr. H. Potter' character was and if he missed his mail at all.

Freak shook his head and stared blank-faced at the bacon he was currently cooking. Once it was cooked to a perfect crisp, he carefully took it off the stove and dished it out onto three plates, putting extra on two of them for Master and Young Master. Mistress wasn't as fond of bacon as the men of the house, but she did like some to go with her scrambled eggs. Next, he buttered the toast, setting out some marmalade and jams for his Masters to choose from. A variety of juices and a pot of tea also waited on the table to be consumed.

Looking over the table, he nodded in satisfaction and walked over to the sink, starting to do the morning dishes. By the time he was finished cleaning the pans, his Masters would nearly be finished eating breakfast and he could collect the plates to wash. Freak liked to believe that he had gotten fairly decent at his various house-keeping duties over the years.

Freaks weren't allowed to go to school, so he had plenty of time to practice while his Masters were out doing their Normal People things. When he was younger, Freak had been secretly envious of Young Master's education. Freak had wished that he could go to a school and learn things, even though Young Master made it sound terrible and boring.

Some small part of Freak still felt that way, but he had gotten very good at repressing his emotions until he didn't really feel much of anything at all most of the time. Freak had gotten very good at being emotionless.

Sometimes, Mistress seemed a bit disturbed at Freak's lack of emotion, but usually just shook her head and continued with what she was doing. Master, on the other hand, took his lack of reaction as incentive to hit harder, which seemed to amuse the man. So Freak continued to train himself to stop feeling, if for nothing else than to make his Master happy.

After all, Freaks lived only to serve their Masters.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone called Professor Minerva McGonagall shows up at the door and gets mad at Freak's Masters, who get defensive. Freak's not entirely sure what's going on, but Professor is taking him away from his Masters and says that they won't be coming back. Does that mean that he's going to get a new Master?

Just as Freak was getting ready to collect the plates, someone rang the doorbell. He glanced at Master to see which task took precedence. The large man jerked his head in the direction of the front hall and Freak nodded, going to answer the door.

The eleven year old opened the door and stared impassively at the rather imposing woman that stood outside. She looked to be perhaps 60-something with dark, silver-streaked hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a dark emerald green business skirt that matched her sharp eyes perfectly. Her face seemed to soften just the slightest bit when she looked at him, though the dark auburn haired boy had no idea why that could be.

After a moment, Freak spoke, "May I help you, Madam…?" He asked her in a somewhat dull voice that sounded raspy from lack of use. Freak rarely had a reason to speak to anyone, so it was a rare occasion for him to have to use it.

Blinking rapidly, the woman stood a little straighter, and Freak saw her lips quirk up the slightest bit in a small smile. "Hello Mr. Potter. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall."

Freak stared at her blankly for a short while before turning to face the direction of the kitchen. "Master, there is a woman here by the name of Professor Minerva McGonagall. I think she's the one that's been sending those letters to that Mr. H. Potter."

All of Freak's Masters came out into the hallway, likely to see what the fuss was about. When Freak turned back to look at her, Professor McGonagall was turning a bright red and had the look of a very angry cat that just got drenched in cold water. Minus the wetness. And the fur.

Taking a few deep breaths, the woman spoke to Freak in a thick voice, though she was looking over Freak's head at his Masters with an odd expression on her face, "Young man, would you mind telling me why exactly you just called these people your masters?"

"Because that's what they are," Freak told her blandly, not really understanding why this woman was bothering to question this fact. His response only seemed to make the imposing woman even more upset as she glared heatedly at Freak's Masters.

This time when she spoke, Professor was talking directly to the Masters, "What the hell have you done to this boy?" She demanded angrily.

Glancing behind himself, Freak noticed that Mistress was refusing to meet anyone's eyes, choosing instead to stare at a particular bit of the wall on her left. Master was turning a very interesting shade of purple and clenching his hands into tight fists. Young Master was only looking between his parents and Professor, seeming extremely confused about the entire thing.

"We did what we had to," Master told her in a low, dangerous voice. "The little freak was doing all kinds of freakish things, so we had to put a stop to it." Freak bowed his head slightly in a gesture of shame.

"Freakish things!" Professor sounded insulted, and Freak vaguely wondered why. "I will ask again. What. Did. You. Do." She made each word sound like a separate sentence, and her voice came out more demanding than questioning. Freak got the impression that his Masters had done something horrible to upset this woman, though he had no idea what they could have done to warrant this kind of treatment.

"What does it matter to you? You and your kind gave the boy up to us to do as we pleased with him!" Mistress sounded defensive, her voice shrill as she finally turned to face Professor, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"He is a child!" Professor's voice also sounded shrill and her face was turning an angry red, her hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at her sides as she glared at Freak's Masters accusingly. Freak watched all of this, indifferent, if somewhat confused.

"He is a freak!" Mistress replied heatedly. Professor's eyes widened almost comically, and her previously red face quickly lost all colour and became slightly grey.

Freak inclined his head slightly. So they were talking about him. This was interesting. He turned to look at Professor, wondering what her response would be. Besides turning grey.

Professor took a few deep breaths, looking down so that her eyes were shadowed, giving her a dangerous aura. "Is that what you think…? Is that how you treat children in your home? In your care?" She sounded as if the idea physically pained her, though Freak had no idea why that would be.

"That freak can hardly be counted as a normal child," was the response from Mistress, who looked very self-righteous, though she was half-hiding behind Master. "The freak is the spawn of my freak sister and her freak husband, so of course he wouldn't turn out anything else…" She trailed off, seeming to lose herself in her bitter thoughts. Freak watched all of this impassively, turning again to watch Professor's reaction to the things Mistress had said.

"How dare you?!" Professor hissed out menacingly, eyes narrowed to angry slits and her right hand pulling something out of her pocket. Freak stared blandly as Professor pulled out a stick. He vaguely wondered what she was planning to do with a stick. How could it be of any use in this situation? Why was she carrying around a stick, of all things?

"Us!" Mistress practically gasped out, glaring right back at the other woman. "How dare you? It was your kind that left him here in the first place! You have no right to come in here and complain about how we raised him. We raised the boy as we saw fit, when he was dumped on us, only a letter saying that my perfect sister and her beloved husband got themselves blown up, and we got landed with their famous offspring!"

Freak tilted his head slightly to one side. He'd never heard any of this before. So his parents had been well-liked, not drunk bums. And they'd been blown up, not in a car crash because they'd been driving while intoxicated. As for the 'famous' comment… Freak had no idea what to make of that. He'd think more on it later.

"Regardless of circumstances, he is still only a child! He was left in your care, and this is how you treat him? Like a house elf?" Professor looked positively scandalized at this. Freak hadn't a clue what a 'house elf' was, but he was pretty sure he wasn't one.

"We can treat the boy however we bloody well see fit!" Master exploded, spittle flying everywhere. Professor drew herself up, looking for all the world like she was about to do something that could change the entire world.

"Well not anymore." With that, she turned her attention to Freak once more. Freak stared impassively back up at her. "Come along, young man. I'll be taking you with me, alright? Is there anything you wish to bring with you? I doubt we'll be coming back here."

Freak shook his head. He wasn't in possession of anything with any particular value, sentimental or otherwise. Professor nodded and started back out the door, with Freak following a foot or two behind her, head bowed.

His feeling this morning had been right. This experience certainly did seem pretty life-changing. Professor said that they wouldn't be coming back. Did that mean that he'd have a new Master? Would he have to learn a whole new routine to keep his new Master happy? New rules? He wasn't sure whether all Masters had the same basic expectations, so he would keep his head bowed and follow orders like normal until he knew the proper way to act around whoever his new Master would be.

Following orders was, after all, what Freaks were for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I am very sorry this took so long to finish and post... You know how life can get at times...
> 
> Anyway, please leave feedback on where you think Freak (who is actually Harry, if I didn't make that obvious enough ;P ) will end up! While you're at it, why don't you make suggestions on how I should make Dumbledore/Voldemort/Death Eaters. I, personally, would prefer decent Tom and DEs, and maybe Dumbles that is still good, but made some bad choices regarding Harry...? I am, however, willing to take suggestions. In fact, I prefer suggestions.
> 
> Thank you for your time. I'll stop blabbing at you now. Byebye! *waves frantically like a complete moron*


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freak still has no idea who his new Master is, but his stand-in Masters are being so very kind... Is it some sort of trick, or did the rules simply change along with his Master? Madame has him drinking juice, of all things. Freaks don't get to drink juice, but who is he to question his new Masters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to popular demand, I hacked and slashed my way through The Dreaded Writer's Block on this work. Sorry if it kinda sucks... -.-;

A rather small boy with messy dark brown hair, tinged red in the right light, and dulled emerald eyes, sat on an unusually comfortable cot surrounded by a curtain. He was watching the white curtain sway in the light breeze caused by an open window somewhere nearby, waiting for someone to tell him what to do next.

He’d been in the room (Professor had called it the ‘Hospital Wing’) for a couple hours, a good portion of which had been spent with a plump woman wearing odd robes waving a stick at him that somehow produced parchment out of thin air. Now the two women (the plump woman, ‘Madame Poppy Pomfrey,’ and Professor Minerva McGonagall) were in an office at the other end of the room, apparently discussing something.

After some time, the curtain around the cot Freak sat on was pulled aside to reveal that Madame and Professor had returned from their private discussion. With them was a rather elderly man with a long white beard and perhaps the oddest outfit Freak had ever seen. Mistress would be horrified by this man’s lack of fashion sense, Freak was sure. The man’s light blue eyes showed a great deal of sadness as he looked at Freak and he shook his head, mumbling something about how sorry he was.

Freak turned his attention to Madame Poppy Pomfrey when she cleared her throat. When she smiled at him, the expression seemed strained, almost as if she was in pain. “Would you like something to drink?” She’d already asked that, bringing him a glass of water even after he’d told her that she didn’t need to, he was fine. She’d then watched him as he sipped at it, apparently concerned.

This time, she handed him a cup filled with some kind of juice. Freak frowned down at it. “I’m sorry, Madame, but I’m not allowed to drink juice.” Then he remembered. He no longer served the same Masters and, therefore, the rules may have changed. He may not be allowed to drink anything but juice by order of his new Master… Whoever that was…

Looking to Professor, Freak tilted his head slightly in a questioning manner, figuring that since she was the one that took him from his previous Masters, it was only logical that she be the replacement Mistress. She looked pained, but nodded and gestured for him to drink it. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was being sincere in her allowance of the drink, but did as instructed.

The three adults kept turning their gazes to one another, then looking back at Freak before meeting each other’s eyes again. Freak watched these interactions with a blank stare.

“Harry…” Professor took a step towards him and Freak’s brows came together in slight confusion as he darted his gaze around in search of this ‘Harry’ person. Professor made a soft gasping noise, her eyes widened as the green depths watered slightly. “Harry…” She murmured again, voice quiet and perhaps a little broken. She stepped back, turning to face away from the other occupants of the room.

Next to speak was Madame, though she also had wet eyes and a sad expression as she looked at Freak. “Young man, I believe it may be best for you to spend the night here, in the Hospital Wing. It should only take a day or two to repair… most of the damage that…” She trailed off, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered, “That can be repaired by spells and potions…”

Though he wasn’t sure what exactly that was supposed to mean, Freak nodded once, taking the suggestion to stay the night as an order. Until Freak knew for sure who his new Master was, everyone was his Master. It was only logical.

Apparently just noticing the late hour, the three adults bid Freak goodnight, telling him in gentle voices to get lots of rest, before closing the curtains around him and leaving once more. A moment or two later, the light in the room went down significantly, though it wasn’t the absolute darkness he’d become accustomed to in his cupboard. Lying down, the eleven year old stared at the ceiling for a while before closing his eyes and trying to sleep.

His stand-in Masters had told him to get lots of sleep… Masters’ orders…

~*~*~

When Madame Poppy Pomfrey came to check on him at 7:30 the next morning, Freak was already up and staring at a spot that had previously been occupied by a bit of white curtain, but now held the stout woman’s chin. Not seeming particularly surprised by this, (though perhaps somewhat saddened) Madame asked him for the third time if he’d like anything to drink. For the third time, Freak declined and, for the third time, Madame brought him a drink anyway. It was the juice again.

Still not used to consuming something with so much flavour, Freak drank it in small sips at a time. Madame didn’t seem to mind this in the slightest, only happy that he was drinking it at all. Not for the first time, Freak wondered vaguely why she wanted him to drink things so often. Not for the first time, Freak did not give voice to his thoughts and questions.

A short time after Freak had finally finished with the juice, Professor came to check on him as well. The two women spoke quietly for a minute before turning back to Freak with small smiles and watery eyes. Professor stepped towards him and spoke in a much softer tone than she’d used with Freak’s Masters.

“Young man, would you like to come down to the Hall for breakfast? You could meet some of the other staff here, get something to eat, make some plans…”

Furrowing his brow slightly and privately wondering what she meant by ‘plans,’ Freak decided to just nod and go along with Professor’s words. It occurred to him that perhaps he was going to meet his new permanent Master as he followed her down strange, moving staircases, wearing clothing that had once been a hospital gown before Professor waved her stick and it turned into jeans and a t-shirt, socks and running shoes appearing on his feet from nowhere.

As they finally reached a large set of ornate double doors, Professor turned to smile at him again as she pushed them further open and stepped inside what was apparently the ‘Great Hall.’ Freak stared, expression impassive aside from slightly widened green eyes, around the large room and up at the ‘ceiling.’ Or, where the ceiling should have been, but instead seemed to open up to the sky outside, which was of course completely impossible, considering how many stairs they’d gone down to get here.

In the middle of the room was a long, wooden table, occupied by a collection of… interesting people. They turned to look at Professor and Freak as they made their way over and Professor had the young boy sit with her, near the head of the table.

It took a moment, but the various adults seemed to snap out of whatever daze they’d been in and most of them smiled at Freak, greeting him with soft voices and sad eyes.

Unsure if he was allowed to speak to these people but not wanting to appear rude to his potential Masters, Freak nodded in greeting, wondering why they all looked so sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Dumbles decent? Is he faking it? Will Freak figure out who Harry is? Who will be his new Master? Since when were McGonagall and Pomfrey so openly emotional? Will the author ever learn how to write long chapters? Why am I asking you all these questions?!


End file.
